


You can’t tell me (It’s not worth fighting for)

by puffabilly



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Background Jane/Thor, F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puffabilly/pseuds/puffabilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It pained Clint to acknowledge that Darcy was in the dark about a lot of things."  Mild smut.  Set (theoretically) right before Thor:Dark World with trailer spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You can’t tell me (It’s not worth fighting for)

**Author's Note:**

> Some parts of this owes direct credit to Matt Fraction's Hawkeye comic. If you're not reading it already, you're missing out bigtime.
> 
> Title from (Everything I Do) I Do It for You by Bryan Adams. As recently seen on The Voice (US). Crazy where inspiration comes from.
> 
> And thanks to twistedingenue for the encouragement when writers block was getting the best of me. We both dig Clint getting some lap action.

Darcy was clearly trying to be quiet as she stepped out of the bathroom.  It was cute the way she did that.  Like she didn’t want to disturb Clint.  She clearly didn’t know he’d woken the moment her breathing had switched from the steady pace of slumber.  He’d only kept feigning sleep because a normal man should be dead to the world after the night they’d had; not appreciating the small towel wrapped around Darcy and the curves of chest and hips that peeked out around the edges.   Not that is was an easy ruse to keep up when she leant over him, the smell of shampoo filling the air and her towel brushing his skin as she dropped a gentle kiss upon his shoulder.   Darcy was softer when she though no one was watching her.  Ironic, really, considering who she’d been sleeping with for the past few months.

Not that Darcy knew about his tendency to watch people.  It pained Clint to acknowledge that Darcy was in the dark about a lot of things.  To her, Clint was Sergeant Clint Louis.  Just some good ol’ boy on R&R who’d helped her and Jane out when their van broke down in the middle of nowhere while driving home from a conference.  A nice guy who took her number and promised to call the next time the army sent him to their part of the world.  So he wasn’t Hawkeye to Darcy.  Or Agent Barton.  Just Clint.

Lying on his stomach, eyes only parted a fraction, Clint continued to watch as she paced the organised chaos of her trailer in search of something.  Her dark hair was soaked from the shower and hung in shiny curls around her face.  He watched as beads of water dripped onto her skin and ran paths down her chest before disappearing into the valley between her breasts.   She paused, chewing her lower lip as if in thought as she absently readjusted the towel around herself. 

That was about as much as Clint could stand.  He was already hard against the mattress and his body was urging him to get Darcy naked against the floor as soon as humanly possible.  It could happen in a matter of seconds.  His brain had the logistics all worked out.  He just had to dislodge the barrier of the towel and make sure to brace for impact when they hit the ground to take the brunt of the force.  Apply tongue and mouth and fingers to the right spots and Darcy would be ready in moments.   

Clint suddenly knew he was tired.  Darcy wasn’t some target to analyse for weak spots.   That was just his conditioned response to everyone and everything.  He already knew every item in the room he could use as a weapon if need be.  That realisation made guilt dig at his gut.  He didn’t like lying to Darcy about who he was.  What he was.  But if she learnt the truth it would hurt her.   Dr Foster was certainly still angry about being tricked into going to Tromsø.  Angry enough try and use Darcy’s taser on the last S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who’d approached them.   It was why befriending them had seemed a good plan at the time.  Certainly easier for Clint to help keep the promise the team had made Thor to keep an eye on his beloved Jane. 

 And the sex...  Darcy had offered to share her trailer one night.  She’d been clear with her intentions.  He’d simply been weak. 

Sometimes he could justify it all by telling himself that since the mess was already made, his visits kept both Darcy and Jane safer.  That there was a world of threats out there for two women living in a couple of trailers in New Mexico.   Then again, a bastard could justify anything for a mission.   No.  Screw that.  She wasn’t a mission.  She was the opposite of everything a mission was.  She was something Clint looked forward to, each and every time.

Darcy passed by the bed and on impulse Clint reached out to catch the edge of her towel before giving it a firm tug.   He moved as slowly as he could bear but still Darcy squeaked in surprise. Her shock quickly turned to a mocking protest, both hands gripping tightly to try to keep the towel in place as Clint made a light hearted effort to dislodge it.  The tug of war continued until Darcy had been levered onto the bed and Clint could replace his pillow with her lap.  

This was better.  The conflict in his head faded away as he felt Darcy’s smooth skin beneath his cheek.  Clint angled his head to nuzzle against her thigh, feeling the supple flesh meet his lips.  As abrasive as Darcy could be when she wanted, nothing about her body was hard.   She was a softness that Clint found more and more difficult to resist burying himself in.  It wasn’t helped when Darcy began gliding her fingers through his hair. 

“Don’t suppose you know where my passport is, Stud?” she asked.

Clint bent his arms around her hips, weighing her down to prevent an easy escape before he nodded.  “On the floor behind your boots.  You knocked it off the dresser last night.” 

“Oh.  When we were...?” Darcy’s thighs shifted a little.

“Yeah.  Then.”  Clint grazed his tongue over her skin in a lingering trail before resting his head once more.  The urge was still there to roll Darcy back onto the bed, tease her until she was squirming and ready for Clint to thrust into her.  But another need was competing with it.  Clint wanted to enjoy this moment of peace with his head in the lap of this beautiful girl who would sit there stroking his hair while he rested. The kind of peace that was hard to come by in his line of work.

Of course, he couldn’t shut it all off.  “Be careful over there.  Because...”  _You’ll be in England.  Without any protection._  “You know.  I hear Prince Harry likes American girls...” 

Darcy laughed.  “Hey, we’re going to London to work.  Big prestigious work for Jane.”  She grazed her nails lightly over his neck, her voice teasing.  “I won’t have time for all those hot British boys.” 

 With a slight grunt, Clint restrained himself and only tightened his grip around Darcy’s hips by a fraction.  He had no right to ask anything of her.  Or to have the urge to lodge an arrow in the crotch of any ‘hot’ English asshole who even looked at her funny. 

“I mean... I _probably_ won’t have time,” Darcy continued, sounding thoughtful.  “But wow, y’know, sometimes those guys have really sexy accents...”

Clint craned his neck to look up at Darcy.  “Sexy accents, huh?” he said slowly. 

Darcy simply nodded in reply, her eyes wide in artful innocence even with the mischievous grin upon her lips.  

In one smooth motion, the towel was unwound from around Darcy’s chest and flung across the trailer.  He was moving too fast.  Showing off as if he wanted to get busted.  But the breathy gasp it elicited from Darcy was worth it.  Just like how the noise drifted into a moan when Clint moved her legs apart and began trailing his mouth along her inner thigh.   And the way Darcy’s breath caught between curses when Clint finally stopped teasing her and swept his tongue over her clit in the first of several heavy strokes. 

In an exhale of release, Darcy murmured his name as Clint nudged the tips of his fingers inside.  He smiled against her clit as he curled his digits, just to the knuckle, rubbing and stretching against the wet tightness that gripped him.   Clint could be slow.  He could be patient.  Because when he finally drove his fingers in deep without warning, Darcy shuddered against his mouth while pleading _pleaseClintdontstop_.   

It would’ve been so messed up if he’d given Darcy one of his other aliases.  So fucked if she’d cried out another name.  The thought drove his tongue a little faster.  His fingers caressed and slid in a steady, urgent rhythm as Darcy moaned and writhed.  And when the orgasm broke, she shuddered against his mouth and pulsed so hard around his fingers it made his cock ache with the need to be in her.

But he could wait.  Wait while Darcy flopped against the bed.  He watched the rise and fall of her breasts as her chest heaved until she flailed an arm in his direction and made a weak effort to drag him from between her legs.  Clint was happy to oblige, crawling up over her stomach and dropping kisses against navel and nipple before landing on Darcy’s lips.  She met his kiss there and Clint felt her arms wrap behind his neck, as if to lock him in place. 

“Hot accents got nothing on you Stud,” Darcy murmured between breaths. 

Maybe this was wrong.  Maybe Clint should be telling Darcy to go find some normal boy in England.  Or help Jane find love again and eliminate the last traces of Asgard and heroes from their world.   But when Darcy began arching her hips, rubbing herself and all that wet skin against him, Clint couldn’t bring himself to say those words.   He simply slid inside her with a shudder of relief and whispered Darcy’s name against her ear.

 

* * *

 

Clint handed over the last of luggage and closed the trunk with a hefty thump.  “Got everything?” he asked.

Jane answered before Darcy could.  “Yes.  Thanks for the ride.”  She assessed him with a steely gaze.   “Even though I’m fairly sure it’s your fault we missed the bus to begin with.”

Darcy didn’t bother restraining the eye roll.  “Chill,” she objected.  “We made it.  Go claim your spot at check-in.  I’ll be there in a second.” 

The look Jane gave was sceptical, to say the least.  “Nothing you two do is ever over that quickly.”

Fine.  So maybe it was because of her and Clint’s morning bedroom activities they were behind schedule.  But even if it was subtle, the faint smirk upon Jane’s lips before she began wheeling her bags into the departures terminal made Darcy fairly confident the doc didn’t mind _that_ much. 

“Speaking of quick,” Darcy said, turning her attention to Clint who leant against the car.  “You should get going.  Before the curbside drop-off monitors get angry.”

The threat didn’t seem to perturb Clint.  “I’ve seen angry.  Airport security doesn’t compare.”  As if to prove the statement, he reached for Darcy’s elbow and pulled her close for a hug.  It was a surprise, if not an unwelcome one, as she stumbled into his chest.  They didn’t normally do public displays of affection.  She had no clue why they were breaking tradition today, but Clint’s arms were solid and snug around her, so Darcy decided to just enjoy it.  She felt the press of lips against her hair before Clint’s grip loosened. 

There was a twinge in her chest as she stepped back.  With a couple of days of stubble and a hint of dark circles, Clint looked a little worn out.  Darcy wanted to tell him to rest.  Take a break from everything.  “I hope the army appreciates what you do for them,” was what she ended up saying. 

“It’s worth it,” he replied.  With a duck of his head, he brushed one last kiss against her cheek before climbing into the car.

Darcy raised her hand to shield against the daylight as she watched Clint drive away, dodging the flow of traffic from throngs of other traveller trying to leave their loved ones at the airport.  It wasn’t likely his next destination would be on the top ten holiday destinations list.  She would have asked before he left, but she knew the answer would have been far from the truth.   

In the beginning Darcy had been so close to calling Clint out.  After he’d pulled over to help with their broken down van, dressed in an army jacket with some army ID to reassure Darcy that she could put the taser down.  He had leant beneath the hood and it had taken everything Darcy had not to punch him in his well developed biceps.  To not reveal she’d driven to New York, despite the whole alien attack thing, because a confused Jane had called from her apparently fake job in Tromsø.  That she’d chased a trail of twitter sightings only to arrive just as Thor disappeared in a stream of blue light.  That even though she was exhausted after driving through the night, she had seen the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the car.  And that she had stared at Selvig and Tony Stark and all of them until they were imprinted on her memory banks.  

The only reason she hadn’t blown Clint’s cover was because Jane needed to move on with her life.  Darcy’s report that Selvig had been in New York had shaken her.  It was why Darcy had come back as her assistant.  Jane had needed a friend while regaining her perspective on, well, everything.

Now, waiting to fly to London with Jane back on track, Darcy could admit that she wanted to tell Clint.  And she would.  Soon as she got back, she would explain that despite all her better instincts, she had started falling for him sometime during the snarky debates over bad diner food while they sat around that hick town waiting for the van to be fixed.   She would reassure him that he didn’t have to lie about how he accrued each new scar.   

And finally, she would ask if Clint was his real name.  Because Darcy sure as hell wanted to be sure she was screaming out the right one when she came.


End file.
